


Lay Down in Sweet Surrender

by The_Honeydripper



Category: Music RPF, Robert Plant (Musician), Rock Music RPF
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 12:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeydripper/pseuds/The_Honeydripper
Summary: Lay down in sweet surrender.That’s all she could do.He was magnetic, magic and majestic.(Modern-day Robert Plant)





	Lay Down in Sweet Surrender

_Thank you thank you thank you to my wonderful beta,[firethatgrewsolow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethatgrewsolow), you’re a constant inspiration and talk sense into me when my writing nerves get too bad._

**This is purely a fictional story inspired by present-day (2018) Robert Plant. While writing I listened to “Dance With You Tonight”, “Carving Up the World Again… a Wall and Not a Fence” and “A Way With Words” from his latest album “Carry Fire”.**

Originally posted[ here](https://the-honeydripper.tumblr.com/post/172735699410/lay-down-in-sweet-surrender-thank-you-thank-you)

**********************************

Lay down in sweet surrender.

That’s all she could do.

He was magnetic, magic and majestic.

***************************************

There was no point kidding herself, she’d never have been able to resist him. The moment his eyes connected with hers and he smiled, she was putty in his hands.

The dance back and forth was always such a thrill. Eyes meeting across a crowded club, quickly looking away, only to find his intense eyes still on her when she looked back up. His mischievous little smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Raising the wine glass to her lips, she swayed to the music, letting it envelop her. Her eyes must’ve drifted shut, as suddenly a strong hand caressed her shoulder, and a very familiar voice whispered in her ear, asking her to dance. Smiling, she let him take her hand and lead her to the dance floor.

He was a very good partner, twirling her around the floor with great ease, never missing a step. As they moved together, his purple shirt got pleasantly damp under her palm, and his warm body against hers felt like home.

When the music changed to a slower pace, he pulled her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. His beard scratched gently against her cheek when he nuzzled closer and whispered in her ear. The heat of his breath made her shiver, and she nodded her agreement. Pulling back slightly, their eyes locked, and magic, like little golden zaps of static electricity, sparked between them.

He released her, still holding on to her hand, and as if in a daze, they picked up his jacket and her handbag, and left.

Outside, the cold night air hit them, giving her gooseflesh. Before she knew it, he’d pressed her against the wall and kissed her deeply. His beard rasped her deliciously and snaking her hands in his hair, she pulled him closer, his strong arms encircling her waist, holding her tight to him.

They softly broke apart, and again he took her hand, leading her along the dark street. It felt surreal, like in a film, the streetlights glowing orange in the puddles after the recent rain. Wordlessly they floated down the street, only stopping occasionally to share a kiss.

Reaching his door, they stumbled up the stairs, before arriving at his flat. He turned around to look at her, lust burning in his eyes, as he pulled her close. For what felt like a lifetime, he just held her to his chest; and then he was kissing her. His fiery passion melting her to his will.

Her heart beat like a heavy bass drum when he slowly started to pull up her blouse. His hands stroked over her skin as he exposed it, all the while kissing her neck languidly; burning her, marking her, making her his.

As he pulled the blouse over her head, her hair fell over her shoulders, and she leaned into his lips when he began kissing down her chest.

It was all very unhurried, the passion deep, slow, bubbling, simmering, threatening to engulf them.

Unbuttoning his shirt, delighting in the ever-growing expanse of his chest as she uncovered it, she pushed it off him, glorying in his warm skin under her hands.

Removing her bra, and looking her over, he pulled her into his bedroom.

The crossing of that threshold caused a shift in the energy.

Suddenly they were clawing at each other and her skirt was being torn off.

She went for his trousers, and he pushed her back on the bed, his hand slowly gliding to the buckle. She wriggled up to the headboard as he crawled towards her like the big, predatory lion he was. With a growl, he spread her open and kissed up her left thigh. The beard tickled deliciously, and just the thought of what it would feel like higher up made her juices flow.

He slowly eased one finger into her waiting heat, while kissing up her right thigh. A low groan rumbled in her chest and he echoed it when he finally took his first taste of her. She’d been right; the beard was heaven against her sensitive flesh. Licking her opening slowly, his moustache tickled her clit in the most delicious way. The sensation nearly drove her wild, and she buried her hands in his hair, holding him close.

She was in near sensory overload; he was steadily pumping two strong, lean fingers in and out her, slowly and firmly massaging her clit with his tongue, his beard and moustache titillating her, while his hair tickled her thighs. He was in no hurry; enjoying her moans and mewls, building the sensation higher and higher, until a deep rumble made its way from his chest, vibrating through his tongue and straight through her core. It sent her careering over the edge, as he continued drinking her down.

When she shakily came down, and let go of his hair, he looked up at her, smugness and amusement in his eyes, mixed with a fire that could easily devour her.

He beckoned her with one finger to lie on her back, and when he had her under him, spread open, he sank home.

For a second the world stopped, all that existed were their warm bodies, threatening to burst into flames.

Their eyes glued to each other, he began to thrust into her.

He filled her completely, perfectly, as if she was a sheath made for his sword.

When she thrust up to meet his strokes, the air crackled and he bucked into her.

Every spot inside her, the ones she thought no one would ever find, he seemed to hit effortlessly, and soon the liquid fire, molten lava, ecstasy was roaring through them both.

Her inner walls milked him; nothing had ever felt more right, more perfectly designed.

He collapsed, pulling them over on their sides, still buried deep within her.

They shared a slow, relaxed kiss, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

It was true what they said, 69 really was a magical age…


End file.
